


among the stars (and other places we belong)

by jaepeels



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, And also Daehwi, Angst, Baejin is mentioned, Beware of medical inaccuracies because I'm dumb, Fluff, He's also kind of weird but Guanlin loves him, Is this slow burn or fast burn? Idek, Jihoon and Guanlin are both sick, Jihoon is fond of the stars, Jihoon paints A LOT, M/M, Sort-of-artist Jihoon, Sort-of-writer Guanlin, The summary isn't the best but please give it a chance :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaepeels/pseuds/jaepeels
Summary: Guanlin raises an eyebrow. Curiosity is a dangerous thing. “Who are you hiding from?”The boy smirks, his gaze now sparkling into something more playful. And then with a bit of urgency, he whispers, “I’m hiding from the space warden.”“Thewhat?”Or: Guanlin is a cynical boy with heart problems and Jihoon is a boy he meets in the hospital, who paints in random places and seems to live among the stars.





	among the stars (and other places we belong)

**Author's Note:**

> based on this [prompt](https://twitter.com/allwinkprompts/status/952294582682664960). just hoping that i did some justice to it somehow >//<
> 
> as i've tagged, please beware of LOTS of medical inaccuracies. i've researched, but i know that it's not enough?? i'm just a really clueless writer, so i apologize in advance if it seems unrealistic :') 
> 
> (also, i'm sorry if this seems childish?? sldjlsjdsljd pls forgive me for my lame attempt at being poetic /laughs nervously)
> 
> and please do enjoy! <3

 ・゜゜・．✧

 

 

> There was once a boy made of stardust. He came from a galaxy far, far away from Earth, but in this small expanse of a planet made up 70% of water of 30% of seven continental landmasses, he had found a home. And he had sworn to protect it at all costs.
> 
> \- _Prologue, A Kingdom of Stars_

 

       

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

When Lai Guanlin first met Park Jihoon, stars might’ve began to ignite.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

(Well, almost.)

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

And this is how it goes:

Guanlin waits on a hospital bed for his mom and doctor, a book open on his lap. _Ender’s Game_ is a book that he owns for a couple of years now, the paperback now battered and its pages yellowed with age, yet he always finds ways to reread it again and again. He’s still pretty much entertained by it, even though he already knows the story by heart. He’s only a couple of pages left when the door slides open.

And a boy with a copper-colored hair in a pale blue hospital gown appears, his cheeks flushed and seemingly out of breath from running. Guanlin just stares at him as the boy quickly closes the door and tries to catch some air before eventually regaining his posture back. He turns to look at Guanlin and gives him a rather sheepish smile. Although, there’s something about his eyes that offers a hint of mischievousness.

“Hey,” the boy says.

“Hey,” Guanlin says back.

“I hope you don’t mind me hiding here,” the boy says as he slides down onto the floor, sitting with his legs stretched out and his back leaning against the door.

Guanlin raises an eyebrow. Curiosity is a dangerous thing. “Who are you hiding from?”

The boy smirks, his gaze now sparkling into something more playful. And then with a bit of urgency, he whispers, “I’m hiding from the space warden.”

“The _what_?” Perhaps, Guanlin isn’t hearing him right.

“The space warden,” the boy repeats, a little bit louder.

“The space warden?” Guanlin echoes, uncertain.

He looks at Guanlin like he’s someone inferior. “Oh, you ordinary humans wouldn’t know.”

 _Okay._ “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re hiding someone essential to mankind.” He says it like it’s a matter of fact. “You should be scared now that you’re involved in this intergalactic chase of the century. Oh, and nice choice of read, by the way.”

“Thanks” seems to be the only coherent thing that Guanlin can utter, so he replies with that. He should be talking about how much he loves this book, but he’s too baffled to even say anything.

This entire conversation is too hard for his mundane mind to comprehend.

“Are you a new recruit?” the boy suddenly asks, his tone too casual—like he’s just talking about the weather.

“… What?” Guanlin swears that this talk is getting weirder and weirder.

“You know, a new recruit?” he says again, tilting his head a bit to the side to scrutinize Guanlin and causing the other boy to shift under his gaze. “I’ve been here for months now and I’ve never seen you before.”

“I’ve been here all my life,” Guanlin says. “But I don’t usually stay for a long time; I just keep coming back.”

 _I guess I’ll never stop coming back,_ he wants to add, but decides against it.

“Hmm, good for you.” The boy regards Guanlin with a thoughtful nod. “Will you be staying now?”

“I don’t know,” Guanlin answers truthfully.

“I really do hope you stay,” the boy says and Guanlin is kind of taken aback by his statement. Why the hell would he stay? The hospital is the last place he’d like to be right now. No one wants to stay in the hospital and this boy _hopes_ that Guanlin would? No, that’s not going to happen. “I need a new comrade and you seem to be the right person.”

“Uh, no thanks,” Guanlin declines, almost immediately. “I think I’m good.”

Just a few minutes of talking with this boy makes him certain that he doesn’t want to get involved with him ever again.

“Well—” The boy’s sentence gets cut off when the door abruptly slides open and he tumbles backward on the floor. He lets out a groan of pain as his head hits the ground. He stares up and offers a smile at the nurse glowering down at him. “Hi there, Space Warden-ssi.”

“Park Jihoon!” The nurse, who Guanlin recognizes as Jisung based on his nametag, hurriedly helps his patient stand on his feet, dusting off his back and inspecting his head as he does so. The boy scrambles away from him, but the nurse grabs the back of his gown to stop him from running. “Stop struggling! I got you now.”

“No!” The boy who now has a name—Jihoon—dramatically screams as he wriggles from the nurse’s grip. “I still can escape! You can’t stop me!”

He hastily tries to pry off the nurse’s hold on his hospital gown and succeeds, but the nurse quickly grabs him again. This time, pinning his arms on his back.

Jisung gives Guanlin an apologetic smile as he begins dragging the struggling boy outside. “I’m so sorry for causing you some trouble.”

“I-it’s fine,” Guanlin stutters, blinking rapidly. This whole situation still leaves him in quite a shock.

“I’ll see you soon, human!” Jihoon calls out, grinning so broadly that Guanlin is slightly taken aback, before the door slides closed and the weird boy finally disappears from his sight.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Later on, the doctor tells Guanlin that he needs a new heart, because his current one is failing him—even after several surgeries. They’re going to find him a donor first, as soon as possible, before they proceed on the heart transplant. It’s a big risk to make, he says. But it’s a risk that he has to take.

His mother is a lot like him. She only nods when she hears the news, concealing any emotions of pain on her features by putting up this kind of façade. But he knows—of course he knows—that as soon as the doctor leaves, she would excuse herself to go to the bathroom and would cry there. He knew this because he saw her that day before he got the heart valve surgery years ago. She never broke down in front of Guanlin and he doesn’t know how to take it—whether he should be sad or he’d be thankful that his mother is trying to be considerate.

But one thing is for sure: he’s not getting well.

His grip on the book tightens and he fights an urge to throw it against the wall and scream in complete frustration.

He really thought he was going to be fine.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

> When he crash landed on a human boy’s backyard, the Star Prince decided that it wasn’t on accident. (Even if he was greatly aware that it wasn’t.)
> 
> Perhaps, landing on a human backyard on Earth has its own purpose—a purpose that he had yet to know. The universe, after all, doesn’t let things happen without any reason.
> 
> \-    _A Kingdom of Stars, pg. 6_
> 
>  

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

When Guanlin tells his mother that he’s going to the cafeteria to get food, she seems hesitant at first, but eventually lets him go without asking if he wants her company. She knows that he needs to be alone and Guanlin is thankful for that. Maybe being sick has its own advantages.

His room is located three floors above the cafeteria, so he has to take the elevator to get there. (Although he wanted to take the stairs, it’s already out of question due to his condition—a precaution of a sort.) On the way there, he intentionally moves his feet slowly— _very slowly—_ as he aimlessly wanders around the hallways, taking in its pristine white walls and the scent of antiseptic that he knows very well. He’s spent most of his life here, but he still doesn’t get himself to like it—to find at least find _ease_.

There’s a stigma about hospitals that he is very familiar with; that it’s a place that brings you closer to death. A harbinger of tragic incidences, of a sort.

Guanlin can only agree, no matter how tragic that sounds. Hospitals, after all, are the places where he last saw his dying loved ones. He remembers his favorite uncle being rushed to the ER after an accident. He remembers his grandfather, who had dementia, inhaling his last breath on his hospital bed. He remembers his cousin—his lovely little cousin—smiling at him before closing her eyes. He could’ve sworn that she was just sleeping peacefully if it wasn’t for the doctor and the nurses rushing in as the ragged lines of her heart monitor turned into one solid straight line. Being admitted himself here multiple times doesn’t make him less unenthusiastic about his thoughts on hospitals.

No one can really blame him, right?

He arrives at the cafeteria after what seems like forever. Now that he’s here, he doesn’t really know what he wants to eat. Maybe he’s not actually hungry. Maybe going here is just his excuse to wander around and try to clear his mind—to find momentary escape from the dark confines of his hospital room.

Or maybe to just _breathe_ for awhile.

“Hey, human!”

Guanlin freezes. He’s pretty sure that he knows that voice. And no one calls him “human” other than…

He turns around and, confirming his assumption, Park Jihoon is there. He’s sitting alone on a table at the corner, waving at Guanlin with so much enthusiasm. Guanlin knows that Jihoon is beckoning him to come over. He knows that he should pretend that he didn’t see him. He knows that he should just turn around and leave. But what he does next surprises him.

He approaches Jihoon. The latter grins as he comes closer to him.

“Hi,” Guanlin offers, hovering cautiously near the table—not quite reaching, but not quite far either.

“Hi,” Jihoon greets, his eyes lighting up. “Please take a seat.”

 _This is a bad idea,_ he thinks as he sits in front of Jihoon. _You will absolutely regret this._

“I believe we haven’t properly met,” Jihoon says, extending out a hand. “My name is Park Jihoon.”

Guanlin stares at the extended hand for a moment, before he shakes it. Jihoon’s fingers are warm against his own and he thinks, once again, that he’s going to regret this later on. “Lai Guanlin.”

“It’s nice meeting you, Lai Guanlin!” Jihoon says, rather cheerfully, as his grip on Guanlin’s hand tightens. “Please take care of me from now on!”

Guanlin only nods in feigned interest, quickly retracting back his hand. It still tingles from the contact. He thinks it’s been awhile since he held someone’s hand that isn’t his family. “Okay.”

Jihoon beams at him before he returns to his own business. It’s only then that Guanlin notices what the other boy is doing: painting stars on the table. There’s a clutter of tubed acrylic paints, palettes, and paint brushes lying around the table. At first, he’s in awe at how Jihoon is so good at it; the strokes messy, but still distinguishable and the colors vibrant and glowing, as if he’s really painting the stars into life. (There’s something about Jihoon’s piece that drives him speechless—maybe it’s the fact that even with his broad vocabulary (in all the languages that he speaks), there’s not a single word that can properly describe it.) But then it dawns Guanlin at how they’re in a hospital and he’s drawing in a table—which definitely isn’t allowed, no matter how amazing his art seems to be.

“Hey, Park Jihoon,” Guanlin calls out. “You’re really going around finding trouble, aren’t you?”

When Jihoon looks up, Guanlin is surprised to see him unbothered. He even has the nerve to smirk. “Correction: I’m _painting_ around and _flirting_ with trouble.”

“How coquettish of you.”

“Coquettish _and_ artistic. Know your adjectives, Mr. Lai.” Jihoon winks at him. He _winked_ at him. What the hell.

“I know my adjectives, Mr. Park,” Guanlin lamely retorts. That damned wink. Why did it make him nervous all of a sudden?

Jihoon snorts. “Sure you do.”

When Jihoon continues painting, Guanlin quickly grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Wha—”

“Stop it,” Guanlin hisses. “Before you get caught.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It _is._ It’s vandalism. You can get sued for it.”

A resemblance of hurt momentarily flickers on Jihoon’s expression before it quickly changes into amusement, as if the former wasn’t there in the first place. “Is it really vandalism?”

Guanlin’s heart sinks. “Hey, Park Jihoon…”

“Relax.” Jihoon lets out a laugh. “It’s acrylic paint. It can be easily removed by water.”

“But still—”

“But still you worry too much,” Jihoon interrupts with a cluck of his tongue. “We don’t want wrinkles on your handsome face now, don’t we?”

Guanlin sputters something incoherent, feeling like his face is on fire. This is just ridiculous. How can Jihoon say something like that, as if it isn’t a big deal?

Jihoon laughs. “Look at you getting flustered on being called handsome.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Guanlin mutters.

The wink makes a return and it still catches Guanlin off guard. “Okay, handsome human.”

Guanlin huffs indignantly at this, trying to ignore the heat on his face.

Jihoon grins at his reaction before he resumes on painting. This time, Guanlin doesn’t stop him and watches him work instead, observing the way Jihoon holds the paintbrush delicately on his paint-stained fingers. He notices the little planet drawings on the back of the other boy’s hand, wondering what other blank surfaces Jihoon paints (or doesn’t paint) on.

“It’s finally finished!” Jihoon announces, beaming proudly as he looks at his work. He swipes a hand on the spot above his eyebrow and unintentionally smears a line of blue paint there. Guanlin is tempted to reach out and erase it, but he thankfully stays put. “Hey, human,” Jihoon calls out.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna go see my room?”

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

What Jihoon promises to show him: his room.

What he gets: the galaxy.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Jihoon’s room is only a floor above his, but on the way there, the nondescript walls become descript and the heavy air that seems to surround the hallways fades as Jihoon leads him the way, art materials in hand, greeting the nurses and the patients that they pass by. Guanlin thinks that Jihoon is like the sun and the people are like the planets in the solar system: they orbit around him, strongly drawn to his brightness. Even those who scold him for causing trouble can’t resist smiling at him.

Perhaps, Guanlin is one of those planets, slowly hovering near the sun and hoping to be close to it a bit more.

“We’re here,” Jihoon says as he stops by a door that reads: Room 110. He then slides the door open and steps aside, gesturing grandly at the entrance. “You go first.”

Guanlin gives Jihoon a quizzical look before he enters the room. Jihoon follows him and closes the door behind.

Apparently, Jihoon has a roommate, Guanlin notes, as his eyes fall on the figure with a mop of strawberry blond hair sitting back on the headboard of the first bed, typing away on his laptop; a string of white earbuds attached in both of his ears.

“Hey, Lee Daehwi!” Jihoon greets the boy, approaching him. “Your favorite hyung is back!”

The boy—Daehwi, it seems—looks up, removes the earbuds, and smiles at Jihoon. “Hey, hyung.”

“Daehwi-ah,” Jihoon starts as he takes a seat on the bed, “I bought a friend. Guanlin, come here!”

Guanlin hesitantly walks up to them, offering Daehwi a small smile. “Hi.”

“Hey, Guanlin. I’m Lee Daehwi!” Daehwi greets cheerfully. The aura around him seems to resemble the brightness of his hair. Is it possible for Guanlin to be surrounded by two suns? “Pleased to meet you!”

“Same here,” Guanlin says and they briefly shake hands.

“So,” Daehwi begins, grinning, “you’re new here, Guanlin?”

“Uh, no,” Guanlin answers. “I came back here months after my last surgery.”

“Oh,” Daehwi says quietly. “If it’s not being rude, can I ask you why? What happened?”

“Not at all. I—” Guanlin purses his lips. Years before,  he didn’t like talking about his illness; didn’t really want to acknowledge it. But now, it doesn’t seem to be a really touchy subject, given that he’s already used to it. “Apparently, my already complicated heart has gained more complications, so I’m here because I’ll be getting a transplant soon—if they could find me a donor that is.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Daehwi comments, looking genuinely concerned. Jihoon hums in agreement beside him, staring at Guanlin with an inscrutable expression. “I really do hope they find a donor soon.”

“Yeah,” is all he says, because what else is there to say? He can’t just tell a total stranger that he actually fears going through a heart transplant. Even the rarest thought of it scares him. Somehow, it’s funny how admitting his human flaws to someone can be this difficult. He looks at the IV tube attached to Daehwi’s wrist and coughs awkwardly. “So, um. How about you, Daehwi? What’s your reason?”

“Uhh…” Daehwi trails off, glancing at Jihoon. He seems nervous, and Guanlin worries for a second that he may have opened up a heavy topic.

“Oh, you’re asking why Daehwi’s here?” Jihoon’s tone sounds amused, which surprises Guanlin. “Well, he had indigestion. The first few days were quite nasty.”

“Hyung, that was unnecessary,” Daehwi says.

“Imagine what he answered Mr. Bae Jinyoung from across the room when he was asked about his condition.”

“Hyung, I swear to g—”

“He said it was a _severe_ _intestinal complication._ ”

Guanlin snorts and then bursts out laughing after holding it for a moment. “Intestinal complication. Oh my god. That _really_ sounds convincing.”

“I panicked, okay?” Daehwi says defensively, his voice raised. “I was trying to impress him! I really didn’t want to sound lame, saying that I was hospitalized because of indigestion.”

“Oh, Daehwi,” Jihoon coos, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll understand. I mean, you can probably fart in front of him and he’d still think you’re the prettiest boy alive.”

Daehwi flushes a bit. “That’s a bit too much, hyung.”

“What? It’s true,” Jihoon says. “I mean, don’t you see the way he looks at you?”

“No, it’s not like that.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, Lee Daehwi. You need to trust me on this. Have I ever disappointed you?”

“Occasionally, yes,” Daehwi replies without any hesitation.

“Hey, Lee Daehwi,” Jihoon says in a chastising manner. “I did not raise you to be like this.”

“You didn’t raise me, hyung.” Daehwi sighs deeply and turns to look at Guanlin, who’s still amused by this exchange. “I’m sorry if he’s like this. He wasn’t fixed properly.”

“Is that why he’s here?” Guanlin asks with a laugh. “Because he has _severe mental complications_?”

He expects Daehwi to laugh, but he doesn’t. In fact, he looks kind of sad as he glances at Jihoon, whose smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Guanlin wonders if he said something wrong and he just wants to hide somewhere he can’t be found.

“Actually,” Jihoon says, after a moment of silence, “I’m here because of acute myeloid leukemia.”

Guanlin’s stomach drops at the revelation and he panics. “Oh, crap. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jihoon chuckles. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s not your fault that you didn’t know. Besides,” he says, leaning closer to Guanlin, “I think that it’s just a cover-up for the fact that I actually have stardust in my blood.”

“ _What_?”

“I have stardust running through my veins,” Jihoon clarifies, although it still leaves Guanlin confused. “That’s why my body cannot contain it—because it’s something otherworldly and powerful and I’m too weak for it.”

It’s probably just Jihoon crazy-talking again, but somehow, it still saddens Guanlin. How can Jihoon still think about these things when his sickness is something serious?

“Please understand him. He’s just like this,” Daehwi blurts out with a nervous laugh. “He thinks he’s the prince of the galaxy or something.”

“Because _I am,_ ” Jihoon says, exasperated. He stands up on his feet and grabs Guanlin’s wrist, leading him away. “Come on, Guanlin. I’m gonna show you something.”

There’s a white curtain that separates Daehwi’s bed from Jihoon, concealing the other side. So, when Jihoon drags him there, Guanlin lets out a soft gasp as his eyes fall on the wall above Jihoon’s hospital bed.

It’s the whole galaxy: the nine planets—including Pluto—lining up in an orbit, surrounding the sun, their colors as vibrant as the ball of fire itself. Stars are sprinkled everywhere on the dark space. There’s a drawing of a copper-haired boy in the distance, holding on a red balloon and looking back at the planets as he floats away from them.  Guanlin notes the absence of the color black on Jihoon’s painting, the color replaced by a dark shade of blue instead. It’s like a universe of colors and Guanlin is in awe.

“This is amazing,” Guanlin says, walking closer to the wall and touching its painted surface lightly with his fingers. “Is this allowed?”

“No,” Jihoon says as he comes to stand next to Guanlin. “But I’m an exception. I guess it’s because I’m cute.”

Guanlin narrows his eyes at him. “I don’t think that’s the case.”

“I agree!” Daehwi yells from the other side.

Jihoon pretends not to hear and smiles at Guanlin instead. “Do you think it’s vandalism, Guanlin?”

Guanlin looks at the wall again, taking in its details and the way the colors blended well together. “I think it’s art.”

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

> “Finding the panacea seems impossible,” the human boy said. “The edge of the universe? Where is that? Does that place even exist?”
> 
> The Star Prince only smiled at him. “We have fought dozens of sea ghosts, conquered a giant space hydra, and tamed a flaming gryphon. Searching for the panacea seems like a piece of cake at this point. Have a little faith, young one. The universe is a vast place, after all, and we haven’t even explored the entirety of it yet.”
> 
> -  _A Kingdom of Stars, pg. 197_

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

When Jihoon lives in a world of colors, Guanlin finds a home in words.

Saying that he likes to write is an understatement; writing is something that he enjoys wholeheartedly. When he feels like the real world has failed him, he turns towards writing. When he writes, he gets lost. He forgets. He _belongs_ . When words cannot be expressed through his own voice—through mundane conversations—he writes them down on a piece of paper. Ever since he discovered his love for writing, it had been so easy for him; the words easily flowing from him and onto the empty paper like _magic_ conjuring up into thin air, somehow.

But right now, the words doesn’t flow as freely as before—like there’s something blocking the path. It’s frustrating; writing was never a problem to him before. It’s already been months and he still can’t come up with the right words to say—his thoughts are distorted, the sentences all blurred out together to the point where he can’t understand them himself.

He feels as though a place he calls his home is crumbling down right in front of him.

There’s a bench in the courtyard at the back of the hospital. He finds himself sitting there, tapping a pen on his notebook in a slow and steady beat that matches the music playing on his earbuds. He stares out at the courtyard, just observing people. He discovers that he’s somehow fascinated with the thought that there are billions of people whose lives are living outside his own, often intertwining together when he gets to interact with them—like stories entangling together to create new ones.

There are millions of stories waiting to be written, but he’s still stuck in a standstill.

He flips open his old black notebook and skims through the first pages containing his previous works. He runs his fingertips through his handwriting, smiling as he reminisces: something far away, something so close, something so dear. _Something._

“Woah, okay.”

Guanlin jumps on his seat, instinctively closing his notebook shut. With his heart beating wildly against his chest, he turns around and finds Jihoon staring at him with wide eyes.

“You’re…” Jihoon looks at the notebook gripped tightly within Guanlin’s hands before his gaze returns to him. “You wrote those?”

“I-it’s none of your business,” Guanlin snaps as he stands on his feet and begins to walk away.

Jihoon follows him. “You’re L.G.L? The famous online short story writer, whose blog is followed by thousands of people? _The_ L.G.L?”

“No,” Guanlin replies dismissively as he pushes open the hospital door leading inside. He quickens his pace, but Jihoon still catches up to him.

“You are!” Jihoon lets out a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re him. I’m a big fan of your works. I read them every night before I go to sleep.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Which actually means: I know, but I don’t want to talk about it.

“Stop denying it,” Jihoon says. “I saw some passages from your notebook. They’re from your last blogpost.”

Guanlin doesn’t reply and stops at a nearby vending machine to get a drink. He drops some coins and selects a green tea, trying to ignore the way Jihoon stares at him.

“Why did you stop, though?” Jihoon asks as he watches Guanlin bend down to get the drink from the vending machine. “It’s been like four months since your last work.”

Guanlin _certainly_ doesn’t want to answer that, afraid of saying the truth. There’s a weight on his stomach that carries the guilt as he looks at Jihoon and sees the eagerness etched on his features. He swallows the lump on his throat and offers the green tea to Jihoon. “You drink green tea, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jihoon accepts it, his gaze still unwavering on Guanlin. “So, are you gonna answer my question?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Guanlin says, rather sharply. “Can you please stop asking me?”

The air is thick and uncomfortable as silence settles in. Jihoon is still staring at him with this look in his eyes, as if scrutinizing him, searching for something that holds an answer, and Guanlin averts his gaze from the other boy. He feels so exposed, like an open book for everyone to see. Somehow, he wants the both of them to remain quiet, but at the same time, he thinks: _please say something please talk to me let the words fill the air my lungs my veins my heart, everywhere._

Jihoon smiles at him and grabs his hand. “I’ll show you something.”

And then leads him away.

Guanlin lets him.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Jihoon drags him to the rooftop. The wind outside is cold and it nips on his skin, but he forgets about everything else when he sees the sight in front of him. Jihoon maneuvers him close to the railings and that’s when Guanlin’s breath betrays him.

“So, this is what it really feels like,” he says in almost a sigh; a smile forming on his lips as he looks over the view of the city with the sun setting against the skies painted by hues of orange, pink, and a bit of yellow. He promptly closes his eyes, letting the breeze kiss his skin, as he listens to the faint humming of the wind against his ears.

 _Breathe,_ it seems to say. And so he does.

Park Jihoon leans back over the railing with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at the other boy with a quizzical expression. “Like what?”

“To live,” Guanlin replies.

Jihoon lets out a small laugh. “Since when did you stop living?”

Guanlin only smiles. Since when did he even _start_?

“Words have failed me,” Guanlin blurts out, unable to stop himself.

Jihoon stares at him. “What?”

“You asked why I stopped writing,” Guanlin says. “Well, it’s because words don’t come to me easily like they used to. It’s just like I was suddenly fell into a haze and I was disoriented for a long time. And ah—I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

Jihoon’s eyes are understanding, gentle, and patient, and it pulls on Guanlin’s heartstrings a bit. “I get it, Guanlin-ah. You don’t have to apologize for something inevitable.”

“Thank you,” Guanlin says truthfully.

“For what?”

Guanlin looks at the view again and he smiles. “For this.”

_For showing me the world._

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Guanlin visits Jihoon the next day and asks him to paint him something.

He asks him to paint the sunset that they saw yesterday.

With a smile, Jihoon whips out his acrylic paint set and medium-sized brush and gets the colors carmine, vermillon, lemon yellow, and white. He mixes them on an old wooden palette that’s already stained with different tones of various colors. It was sort of a beautiful mess.

And then with careful strokes, he grabs a hold of Guanlin’s wrist and paints the sunset on Guanlin’s skin.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

After that, Jihoon paints on Guanlin’s wrists the scenes that they see from the rooftop:

He paints the night sky sprinkled with stars and the moon.

The daybreak, when the sun is beginning to rise, painting the dark sky with a bright shade of orange.

The twilight with sun finally dropping below the horizon, the remains of its light scattering in the sky.

The day with clear, white clouds floating over the skies, blue and bright as the ocean.

Jihoon paints what they see, but he also paints an entirely different picture.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

(Guanlin doesn’t really want to erase the paint on his wrists. But inevitably, they fade.)

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

(Luckily, Jihoon paints him a new one every time the scenes gradually disappear from his skin.)

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

“You do know that this isn’t for free, right?” Jihoon asks one day as he paints another scene on Guanlin’s skin. It’s another night sky, but this time, he added the buildings and the city lights.

“Oh.” Guanlin stares at the intricate strokes of the buildings. At the vibrant glow of the lights against the dark sky. Of course pieces like this is not for free. “How much do I have to pay you?”

“Don’t pay me with money, kid,” Jihoon says, his hand paused from painting. He smiles. “I want something better than money.”

There’s something about Jihoon’s expression that makes Guanlin fear his next response. So, carefully, he says, “Okay then. What is it?”

“Write something for me.”

“W-what?”

“Write me something. Don’t make it an biography. Write something more magical than that. You can write something about a boy saving the universe, for all I know. Just _write_. Use your imagination.”

Guanlin blinks. “Oh. Okay.”

“You better make it great, okay?” Jihoon grins, his eyes shining playfully. “Because I’ll be reading it.”

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

That night, as Guanlin lies on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he thinks of the night sky full of stars—which seems to resemble the sparkle in Jihoon’s eyes. He then thinks of the world beyond those stars, a whole galaxy with fathomless possibilities.

He thinks of the boy floating in space on Jihoon’s painting.

And something sparks in his mind.

He quickly sits up on his bed and grabs his notebook and pen. He flips it open and takes off the cap of his pen, staring down at the blank page. Somehow, it doesn’t seem as intimidating as it used to.

For the first time in a while, he starts to write; his thoughts flowing within the ink of his pen, spilling onto the paper the way the light of the sun colors the sky as it sets into the horizon.

_There was once a boy made of stardust…_

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

 

 

> “Why do you like the Earth so much?” the human boy asked, as they looked over the small planet of blues and greens from the window of the prince’s spacecraft. “It’s slowly dying, and humans don’t do anything about it; consumed by their greed and their carelessness. The Earth is far too flawed compared to your beautiful planet with the most kind hearted people. I don’t understand why you chose to stay and protect it.”
> 
> The Star Prince only smiled as he stared at the distant planet that he liked to call his home. “Maybe that’s why I love Earth. I love it because it’s flawed, and that’s what makes it beautiful.”
> 
> \- _A Kingdom of Stars, pg. 251_
> 
>  
> 
>  

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Vending machines are annoying, especially when your snack gets stuck before it can even drop. Guanlin’s been in this situation a couple of times before and he’s learned to let go of it when it happens.

He heaves a deep sigh and is about to leave when someone suddenly speaks to him.

“It’s bothersome, isn’t it?” Guanlin turns to see an old man with kind eyes looking at him. He’s a bit shorter than Guanlin, but he’s still surprisingly lean despite the evidence of old age on his features. He has a friendly smile and slight sparkle in his gaze that kind of reminds Guanlin of someone. “Do you still want it?”

“Y-yes, ajhussi,” Guanlin stutters a reply, politely bowing at the elder. “It’s kind of a pity, though. I don’t think I can still get it.”

“Hmm,” the old man hums thoughtfully as he glances at the vending machine. “May I?”

Guanlin doesn’t really know what he means by that question, yet he still nods. He steps aside as the old man approaches the vending machine. Then, all of a sudden, the man brings a fist on the glass surface with so much force that Guanlin flinches at the loud sound. The Peppero snack goes down at the impact and the ajhussi bends down to pick it up. He grins as he gives it to Guanlin, but the younger can only stare at him in shock.

“Ajhussi, that was…” Guanlin laughs. “That was awesome. Thank you so much. Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine, boy,” the old man assures him. “I always do this for my grandchild. He doesn’t really get along with vending machines, either.”

Guanlin accompanies the old man, who he later learns is named Park Minseok, on a walk. He tells Guanlin that he’s visiting his grandson, who’s already been in the hospital for 2 months now. He talks about his grandson a lot, his smile full of fondness even if he’s recalling his most mischievous moments. Guanlin reminds him of his own late granddad, who had loved him dearly, even on his last days on Earth. He reminisces the way his grandpa stared at him with so much adoration in his eyes, even though he couldn’t remember Guanlin’s name.

“My grandson only has me,” Mr. Park says. “His parents died when he was just a young boy. I was the one who raised him, so I’m quite attached to him, even though he’s a bit of a scoundrel.”

Guanlin chuckles. “Your grandson seems fun.”

“He is.” Mr. Park laughs. “He’s a bit crazy, but you’ll love him.”

They arrive moments later and Guanlin stares at the familiar door in front of him. It can’t be—

The door opens and sure enough, there’s Park Jihoon sitting cross-legged on Daehwi’s bed, painting the younger boy’s nails with yellow acrylic paint. Surprisingly, Daehwi seems to be enjoying it.

“Ya, Park Jihoon!” Mr. Park calls out, causing Jihoon to turn to him with a smile. “Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy your friend?”

“Grandpa!” Jihoon jumps from the bed and runs towards in a speed of light Mr. Park, tackling him into a hug.

They detach from each other after a moment, and Mr. Park fishes something out from his bag and shows it to Jihoon. “I bought you some new paintbrushes!”

“Woah!” Jihoon’s eyes widen in delight, taking the paintbrush set from his grandpa with careful hands, as if he’s holding something fragile and precious. “Thanks, grandpa!”

“I’m glad you like it, kid.” His grandpa musses his hair, and then turns to Guanlin. “Jihoon-ah. Meet Guanlin. He’s a nice kid.”

“We met,” Guanlin says, his voice quiet.

“Yup,” Jihoon agrees with a grin. “He’s a new recruit.”

“Well, I’m glad that your crew is growing.” His grandpa laughs. “Right, Daehwi?”

“Yes, Mr. Park,” Daehwi says, nodding. “Three is better than two, after all.”

“Well, you got that right, Daehwi-ah.” Mr. Park gives him the finger heart, which causes Jihoon to snort. “I bought chicken, by the way. Care to join me, lads?”

As Mr. Park sets the table, Jihoon and Guanlin help him out. They then eat (with an exception of Daehwi, of course, who’s still has certain food restrictions.) Stories are then shared. Laughter fills the air. Guanlin observes Jihoon and his granddad, who seems to get along really well—even throwing jokes at each other like they’re just best friends. They can even easily exchange I love you’s to each other, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. The bond between them is something that Guanlin has never seen before, even in his own home.

So when he returns that night to his room, he finds his mother waiting for him, watching her favorite show on television. He approaches her, and engulfs her in a deep embrace, just like when he’s still a kid.

“I love you, mom,” he says.

His mom laughs. “Hey, hey. What’s this for?”

“Nothing,” he whispers against her shoulder. “I just want to let you know that I love you.”

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

And Guanlin thinks: _You are always loved._

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

“Jihoon, this is crazy.”

“I know.”

“This is going to get both of us in trouble.”

“I know.” Jihoon smiles at him. “But I like the idea of getting in trouble.”

Jihoon is painting clouds on Guanlin’s door, looking pretty much unaffected by Guanlin’s nervousness. When Guanlin had asked him to teach him how to paint, this is not what he meant. Seriously, what did he expect from Park Jihoon?

“Why can’t you just draw on canvas?” Guanlin asks.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jihoon smirks as he dabs a hint of grey on the clouds. “Besides, I can’t afford an actual canvas.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Park Jihoon, you’re unbelievable.” Guanlin makes it sound like he’s disappointed; but truthfully, he’s kind of impressed (and a little bit fond.) There’s just something about Jihoon that is practically out of this world and every time he does something new, Guanlin just can’t help but _like_ this boy. So, he can’t contain his smile as Jihoon continues to add details to the clouds to make them more realistic.

He teaches Guanlin how to draw the flying birds, guiding his hand as the paintbrush glides smoothly on the surface. There’s not much distance between them with Jihoon’s shoulder glued onto his back and his cheek occasionally brushing against this own. Guanlin becomes aware of the proximity, becomes aware of the beating of Jihoon’s heart on his back, becomes aware of his own heartbeat pounding against his ribcage like crazy, as if it’s going to escape somehow. He’s so close that he can probably count Jihoon’s eyelashes if he wants too. So close that he can hear the other boy’s breathing. So close that he can see the blush blooming on his cheeks. _So close so close so close._

Guanlin abruptly coughs, feeling the growing heat on his own face, and the subtle pink tint on Jihoon’s face becomes a dark shade of red as he removes himself from Guanlin, stepping a _little_ bit far from him.

“I-uh…”

“Umm…”

There’s an intense flutter on his chest and he wonders about this foreign sensation. _Why am I like this? What’s this feeling? I feel like I can’t breathe._

“Jihoon—”

“Hey, kids! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Oh, shit!” Jihoon exclaims as he hastily gathers his things with Guanlin helping him in the moment of panic. He then grabs Guanlin’s hand and urges him up. “Let’s run, Guanlin!”

And they do.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

As they run, Guanlin forgets about everything—forgets about the state of his weak heart—and focuses on: their combined laughter, the feeling of adrenaline, and Jihoon’s hand in his.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

_Let’s never stop running._

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Days turned to weeks turned to months. It’s been a long time since he met Park Jihoon, been a long time of spending time with each other, and he’s changed him a lot. Helps him see the sun as more than just a giant ball of fire. Helps him realize that stars don’t just belong to the sky—they also belong to the hearts of dreamers and in the eyes of a certain boy with copper-colored hair. Helps him realize the Earth isn’t just our only home; sometimes there’s a whole kingdom of stars and sometimes, there are people.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

_Jihoon, do you realize you’re one of those people?_

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

One day, Jihoon says to Guanlin:

“I want to go back to the ocean.”

“Hmm, why?”

“I grew up near the ocean, Guanlin. I miss it. God, I miss it so badly.”

“Tell me everything you love about the ocean.”

“I love the entirety of it: the vast blue of the water, the smell of the sea salt, the feeling of the cold breeze against my skin. The sand beneath my feet and the view of the sky colliding with the sea. The sight of dawn, daybreak, twilight, and the night. For me, the ocean has the best view of everything. It’s like witnessing the coalesce of everything beautiful on Earth.”

“The way you described the ocean… it makes me want to go there, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think that we should go.”

“… Should we?”

“We should.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible. Let’s go there as soon as possible.”

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

The ocean doesn’t seem so far away.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

They’re allowed to go to the ocean for a day, but only if Nurse Jisung goes with them. With a smile, Jihoon says it’s enough for him.

As long as he gets to see the ocean again.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

 

 

> On one of their quests in the galaxy, the human boy accidentally got sucked in a wormhole.
> 
> Down,
> 
>     down,
> 
>           down he fell.
> 
> And the Star Prince could only watch him fall, the tears falling from his eyes like stars collapsing in the sky.
> 
> \- _A Kingdom of Stars, pg. 376_
> 
>  
> 
>  

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

The night before their departure, Jihoon collapses onto the ground.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Guanlin watches it happen. They are in the rooftop again, tracing constellations with their fingers. Jihoon is smiling widely, can’t quite contain his excitement for tomorrow’s trip. He recalls his memories of the ocean. He tells Guanlin stories of his childhood, how the ocean became his sanctuary, an old friend along with the stars.

It’s so sudden—it’s too fast. One moment, Jihoon is looking up at the stars. Then there is blood dripping from his nose. And then one moment later, he’s vomiting, his hands clutching on his stomach as his knees hit the ground. It’s like watching a person combust, consumed by his own sickness, and the sight of Jihoon like this is destroying Guanlin, too. There’s a ringing in his ears as he runs towards Jihoon.

“Jihoon!” Guanlin calls out as he puts an arm around Jihoon, his other hand cupping his cheek. Jihoon’s gaze on him was unfocused and Guanlin fears for a moment that he’s losing him. “Jihoon. Jihoon, please stay with me. I’m going to get you to a doctor, but I need your help, okay? C-can you do that for me?”

“Guanlin-ah,” Jihoon chokes out, blood coming out from his mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Jihoon, please don’t say that.”

“I-I thought I was okay,” Jihoon says, now sobbing. He’s clutching Guanlin’s shirt, holding it so desperately—as if he’s being swallowed by the waves and he’s clinging onto an anchor, hoping not to get lost at the sea. “We’re going to the ocean, Guanlin. I can’t—I—I don’t want this to happen. T-the last time this happened, I ruined e-everything.”

Guanlin’s heart clenches at Jihoon’s expression. “Jihoon-ah—”

“I r-remember it clearly, Guanlin-ah,” Jihoon adds. “I was in a dance group. I was so c-close to getting a scholarship. We were in the middle of a show and then the world was suddenly spinning and I felt like I was drowning. I-It was too much to bear, Guanlin-ah. It hurt s-so much and I—I couldn’t do anything about it. I-I don’t want it to happen again.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Guanlin whispers, caressing Jihoon’s face with his thumb. He’s crying now, too. He’s never seen Jihoon so vulnerable like this, his mask crumbling down to reveal all the pain he’s been burying deep within himself. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to the ocean.”

“R-really?” His voice is hopeful.

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Guanlin says, although he’s not sure himself. “But first, we’re going to the doctor, okay? So, can you please help me?”

Jihoon nods weakly and Guanlin helps him up. He puts Jihoon’s arms around his shoulders and heaves him up on his back. He carries him back inside the hospital, praying to the universe that everything’s going to be okay.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Jihoon is okay.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

For now.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

He visits Jihoon often. And every time he does, Jihoon becomes more and more distant as his condition grows worse.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

(“Hey, Jihoon. Let’s paint some stars.”

“…”

“Your grandpa bought you a new acrylic set. Don’t you wanna try it?”

“…”

“The quality looks pretty good, too.”

“…”

“Okay…”

“…”)

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Dr. Hwang tells him that they found a donor. His mom is excited, but scared at the same time. He’s been prepared for this for months now and his surgery will take place next week, after running through some more tests.

“You’re going to be okay,” his mom tells him.

He hopes so, too.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

For the whole week, he writes.

And writes.

And writes.

Writes his thoughts, his emotions, pours the contents of his heart onto the paper. Adds the stars in them, too.

He thinks about the copper-haired boy and writes about him, his beautiful heart filled with glowing stardust, and his countless adventures in space with his human friend.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

On a Friday night, he visits Jihoon to tell him about his heart transplant, but the other boy remains silent throughout the whole talk. It kind of hurts Guanlin that he’s not being acknowledged, but he thinks that being able to speak to Jihoon is enough for him.

“Mom is trying to stay positive.” Guanlin laughs. “But I can tell that she’s nervous about the surgery. After all, the surviving rate isn’t that high.”

Jihoon is still quiet, staring at the sliver of the night sky in between the curtains, his eyes evident of longing for something far away.

“But I know I’ll survive,” Guanlin adds, reaching out to touch Jihoon’s hand. “We’re going to get through this together.”

For the first time since the night at the rooftop, Jihoon speaks up. “I won’t survive for long, Guanlin.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can’t you see me right now, Guanlin?” Jihoon asks him, his eyes hard on Guanlin. He takes the time scrutinize Jihoon’s state: his pallid complexion, the bruises running along his arms, the dark bags around his eyes, and the cracks on his lips. Guanlin can see the apparent changes, but Guanlin thinks that Jihoon is still the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen. “I’m getting weaker and weaker every day. I can’t even stand on my own feet! I’m fucking bedridden and you think I’m going to survive?”

“Don’t say that,” Guanlin says pleadingly. “Please don’t say that.”

“Say what, Guanlin?” Jihoon’s voice is almost yelling. “That I’m dying?”

“Jihoon—”

“I’m fucking dying, Guanlin!” Jihoon’s eyes are red now, angry and frustrated, and on the verge of crying. “Can’t you fucking see that? I’m dying, Guanlin, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“But I am! How many times do I have to—”

Guanlin grabs Jihoon’s face in his hands, willing him to look at his eyes, willing him to see the desperation in them. “Listen to me, Park Jihoon. You are going to survive, whether you like it or not. You’re going to live because there are so many people who are counting on you. So many people who love you. The nurses, the doctors, Daehwi, Jinyoung, your grandpa. Hell, even the stars love you. _I love you._ So, don’t go around saying that you’re going to die like there’s no one out there who needs you to live. They’re— _we’re_ —living for you. So, please— _please_. Try to live for us, too.”

Tears have fallen from Jihoon’s eyes as he looks at Guanlin. He wipes Jihoon’s tears with his thumbs and brings his face closer to his until their foreheads touch.

“And have you forgotten that we’re still going to the ocean?” Guanlin asks with a smile, although his tears are falling too. “I promised you, right? We’re going there, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Jihoon echoes, threading his fingers through Guanlin’s hands on his face. He’s smiling now, too.

_No matter what._

It’s a promise that Guanlin will surely keep.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

The universe is a vast place. It’s unfathomable.

 

You and I, we can go anywhere—

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

—to wherever our hearts take us.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

“Are you ready, Guanlin?”

It’s the day of the heart transplant and Guanlin should be nervous, but he’s not. He’s confident that he will make it out of the surgery room alive. So, he smiles at his doctor and says, “Of course, I am.”

“I like your spirit,” Dr. Hwang comments with a laugh.

“Thanks, Dr. Hwang.” Guanlin laughs, tracing the edges of his notebook cover. “By the way, can I see someone before I go?”

“Oh, sure,” his doctor says. “But you have to make it quick, though. Your surgery will start within an hour and a half.”

“Of course, doctor.” Guanlin beams at him as he leaves his bed.

“I’ll have Nurse Sungwoon accompany you on the way there.”

Nurse Sungwoon is a short, handsome nurse with the biggest heart who Guanlin gets along with. On the way to his destination, they talk like they’re old friends. Guanlin even jokes about his height and Sungwoon playfully hits him in response. Their conversations flow easily and Guanlin is thankful for that.

“Hey, Sungwoon-hyung?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

Sungwoon coughs, rather loudly. “Um, o-of course, Guanlin-ah. I think everyone has been in love before. Why are you asking?”

“Well, you see,” Guanlin starts, smiling as he recalls a certain someone, “I met this boy who’s fond of the stars and he changed my life. He makes me feel like I belong among the stars along with him. Some say that love keeps you grounded, but he had swept me off my feet and lifted me from the ground. He showed me a whole new world beyond the skies and embraced me along with it. Is this really what love feels like, hyung? Does it feel exhilarating, liberating, and fulfilling? Have you ever felt that, hyung?”

Sungwoon is silent for a while before he smiles, patting Guanlin at the back. “Yes. Yes, Guanlin. Being in love just feels like that.”

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

_Love can make you soar high._

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

Guanlin’s heart feels like it’s escaping from his ribcage the moment he sees Jihoon. The boy looks healthier than before, his skin regaining back its color. The sunlight from the outside is filtering through the curtains, illuminating the whole room with a vibrant glow. The light is also softly touching Jihoon’s features, making him look so ethereal and so beautiful. Guanlin approaches him with a grin.

“Hey there,” Guanlin greets, sitting down on the bed beside him.

Jihoon turns to look at him and a small smile makes its way to his face. “Hey.”

“So, I’m going to a surgery later,” Guanlin says, and Jihoon hums in response. “But before that, I’m going to give you this.”

Guanlin hands him his notebook containing all of his works, including the story he made for Jihoon. The other boy’s eyes widen and he carefully accepts it from Guanlin, handling it with so much caution, like the way he delicately holds his paintbrushes.

“Thank you,” Jihoon whispers, and the sincerity in his voice brings a warmth of fondness through Guanlin.

“You’re welcome,” Guanlin says. “Make sure you read that well, okay? I put a lot of love into that, you know.”

Jihoon smiles at him. “I know.”

Guanlin is suddenly caught off guard. How can be a single be this beautiful? “So, I—uh—I need to go now. I’m sure they—”

Suddenly, Jihoon has grabbed the front of his shirt and brings him closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

When Jihoon lets him go, he’s grinning at him. “That was for good luck. Come back alive for me, okay?”

“Oh,” is what Guanlin can only say. He can feel his face burning from the kiss and he seriously just wants to fly away right now. He scrambles on his feet, stubbing his toe on the side table on the process. “ _Ouch—oh_ , okay then. T-thanks.”

Jihoon laughs at his awkwardness. “You nerd. I think you should go now before I lose my mind.”

Guanlin starts to leave, but before he closes the door, he watches Jihoon shoo him away with the biggest grin on his face. Guanlin finds himself smiling, too.

There are so many reasons to stay alive and Park Jihoon is one of them.

When he steps outside, he finds Nurse Sungwoon waiting for him.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Always,” Guanlin answers.

 

 

・゜゜・．✧

 

 

> “Where are we going now, my prince?” the human boy asked. They were currently trudging on a space swamp in a faraway planet, hand in hand, following a path that would return them to the prince’s spacecraft. After being rescued, the human boy was glad that they were finally leaving this place. Being sucked in a wormhole leading to a different dimension wasn’t the most ideal trip in this whole universe, after all.
> 
> “Home,” the Star Prince replied, grinning as he gazes at the sky full of stars. Surprisingly, even in this foreign planet, the night sky remained the same. “Let’s go home, my favorite human.”
> 
> _\- Epilogue, A Kingdom of Stars_

**Author's Note:**

> ummmmm... i hope the ending's okay /sweats
> 
> and if you made it this far, thank you so much! i appreciate it a lot T.T
> 
> and uh, if you have questions, my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jaepeels) is always open :D hope y'all are having a good day!! (* ^ ω ^)


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